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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27364048">Death or Paradise</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/smack/pseuds/smack'>smack</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>James Bond - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>James Bond Title Transfer, James Bond is James Bond, James Bond is a title, M/M, This gets weird before it gets better</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:23:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,955</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27364048</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/smack/pseuds/smack</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>James Bond is a title, transfered from retiring agents to up and coming 00's. </p><p>Too bad James Bond is going to ruin Q's life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James Bond/Q</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I Should Have Known</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>** 11/18/2020-- I've changed the summary?? Because apparently I wasn't paying attention to it and it was... terrible. So. Thanks to those of you who read it despite the summary, Please continue to enjoy?</p><p>I have notes. They're mostly thorough. Please bear with me, it will hopefully make sense. </p><p>To Start:<br/>Nathan Gibbs is 'Skyfall-Whishaw' Q. Before the events of Skyfall, all Q mentions are referring to John Cleese's Q. </p><p>James Bond is a title, which is passed down as the previous JB passes away. </p><p>Mostly, the dates mentioned coincide with the movie timeline. (Pierce-Craig eras) Some things have been moved around, because Artistic License. Feel free to jump to the end notes to get a better idea of WTF I was thinking. Spoilers abound, and all that.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>*		*		*</p><p>At the end of the day, they both retire to Nathan's flat. A tiny little space with one bedroom and one bathroom and one window with a view not obscured by another building. Nathan's never had a flat all to himself before. He's very proud, but even more so of the man in his bed. The bed isn't quite big enough for two grown men, but Nathan makes do by plastering himself against his companion's side. He traces scars while the man stares at the plain white ceiling. </p><p>"I'm getting too old for this." The man whispers. He raises a calloused hand  and ruffles it over his wavy dark starting-to-grey hair. </p><p>Nathan hushes him just as softly. "You have this mission in North Korea, and when everything goes smoothly, you'll be back, and you can talk to M." He feathers his fingertips over the hair on James' chest. "You'll come back to me, and we'll decide what to do from there." </p><p>James captures Nathan's hand and kisses the palm. "00's don't usually retire, Nathan." He says with a cold laugh. James is beautiful. Distinguished and Irish fair. He is suave and smooth and Nathan loves him like Bond is the moon. Hidden in shadows, lighting up the sky, leaving, but always returning to the horizon. Nathan can see James retired to a deserted island in the Caribbean, black hair turned light and dusty in the hot sun. </p><p>He can also see a body, bloody and torn, left abandoned by his country. "You come back and we'll figure something." Nathan tucks himself into Bond's shoulder, presses a kiss to the bullet graze scar on his shoulder and closes his eyes. </p><p>Three weeks later, the mission in North Korea goes sideways, and his James is lost to a game of revenge.</p><p> </p><p>*		*		*</p><p>He's sitting in the basement of Vauxhall Cross, the not so secret MI6 building, for roughly three hours while his crying jags slow to a stop. He's just hitting against the wall of numb now. </p><p>Q finds him there, familiar, even though Nathan is just barely above entry level, and sits silently next to him for a moment. </p><p>"I don't suppose you've had much experience with this kind of loss." Q says softly. Nathan's hands, clasped together in front of him, turn white knuckled. "I know you lost your parents when you were young, but-" Q stops and sighs. "This is something altogether different." He glances at Nathan, still staring into the middle distance. "You were very careful, but sometimes an old man just knows these things. The loss of a partner is hard. The loss of a partner no one knows about and everyone is talking about-" Q shakes his head sadly. "I'm sorry."</p><p>Nathan says nothing as his branch director stands and begins walking away. "So he is-?" Nathan asks. His voice is rougher than he would have thought, tight and worn out at the same time. </p><p>"I'm sorry, dear boy." Q says, without turning. "I identified him myself." He moves, as if to continue walking and stops again. "Take a few days, Nathan. If you want them. I'll clear it with anyone who'd care." And Nathan's left in the dark again. </p><p> </p><p>*		*		*<br/>
Nathan moves quickly up the ranks, after. He's been fairly good with computers, in general, but hacking is not really his forte. Unfortunately, it's something that Q isn't particularly up to date with himself, so Nathan learns. Quickly. </p><p>Soon, Nathan is one of the department's most talented asset. He's young, and proves himself good enough to be invaluable. Q doesn't treat him any differently, knowing what he knows, and Nathan is able to... continue on. Stiff upper lip and all. </p><p>It gets... well easier isn't the right word. It gets manageable. He's able to stop his eyes threatening to tear up at random embarrassing moments. He gets known for his professional attitude, his ability to keep things on point. He becomes something like Q's secretary. Not quite R status, but he oversees many of the things Q needs, while having no real power. He's pulled into a meeting of the Senior managers, where he's pinned under M's piercing eye before Q nods at her and he's summarily ignored. </p><p>Attending the Department head meetings happens a few more times before the topic of 00's appears, like a storm on the horizon. Nathan makes himself as small and quiet as he can possibly be in a room full of people trained to notice things. Q shoots him a look, rather transparent for the old man and Nathan nods at him.  </p><p>"002 has gone off the grid in Malaysia." M says. "What resources do we have in that area that can be assembled quickly." She never asks. Everything she says comes out like a statement of fact. There will be resources in Malaysia, if there weren't previously. Several of the other departments are shuffling through things in their paper folders, assuring her of what they provide. Nathan breathes slowly, calmly and it's ok. They move on. </p><p>Until the end of the meeting, when M turns to Q and says, "There's been an update from Prague." Q stays and indicates for Nathan to stay. Nathan had been one of the members of Q branch to link the Section Chief of Prague to the secrets he'd sold. M eyed him again, much like the first day, but moved on quickly. "David Hatt has completed his first mission, He'll be written in officially as Code Name 007- James Bond by morning." </p><p>Nathan's heart freezes and only a nudge from Q moves him enough to see that M has left the room. </p><p>"I've been asked to outfit 007." Q says quietly. "I don't expect you to join me. I'll take R. She's been doing some of her own personal projects, keeping up with her work, which is nearly a miracle, thanks to you." Q lifts his chin and stares down the hallway they're walking along. "I will see you later, Nathan." Nathan nods and is breathtakingly relieved. </p><p>*		*		*</p><p>Nathan peeks. Just once. About eight months into Bond's first year. This Bond is compact, where Nathan's had been lithe. He's broad, and strong looking, where His had been often underestimated. This Bond had short spiky blond hair and the slightly chapped look of a man recently at sea. </p><p>He's chatting up a lovely looking woman in a shorter than strictly professional skirt. And he seems to have already gotten the characteristic/professional disregard for personal space down. His eyes case over the room, still chatting, not restless, but careful, when he seems to stall on Nathan, who's vision pinpoints to Bond's gaze, eyes the same bright blue... before the casual sweep of the room continues. Nathan walks quickly, but not with any visible rush, across the doorway he'd been peeking out of, and that's the last he sees of James Bond for a long while. </p><p> </p><p>*		*		*</p><p>Silva becomes an issue. </p><p>Q, the old Q, with whom Nathan had worked for many long worthy years, is one of the dead from the attack. Nathan is summoned to M's temporary office underground and sat in one of her immaculate chairs. They're seated three feet apart, but Nathan doesn't really see her. Is still reeling from all that's happened. </p><p>"Nathan Gibbs." M says shortly. She's not obviously tired, but the slight strain around her eyes tells Nathan she's exhausted. </p><p>"Ma'am." He says respectfully. He's not entirely sure why he's here. The move had been relatively smooth, R taking control of the Q branch in the confidant way she had. </p><p>"I'm going to keep this brief. Unfortunately, with current circumstances being what they are, you understand the need for expediency and not celebration." She sets a pen on top of her desk and folds her hands over it. "I'm designating you to run Q-branch. It is a direct recommendation from the previous Quartermaster, and has been approved by his second in charge." </p><p>"Surely, R?" Nathan- Q now, apparently- begins, but the raising of her thin white eyebrow stops him. He nods. "I appreciate the gravity of the situation and will perform to the best of my abilities."</p><p>She eyes him for a moment longer. Then inclines her head. "You may have to do a great deal more than that, Q. But as with all things, time will tell." </p><p>He walked into her office Nathan and out of it the complete overseer of an entire division of MI6. </p><p>*		*		*</p><p>It's another three weeks or so, when he's called back to her office. He reports directly to her, he knows, but he's been trying to redo the entirety of the British Secret Service electronic security, and, well. She might have picked a better time.</p><p>She's closing the folder open on her desk, a small picture of a man on the first page and pats a worn wrinkled hand on the cover. It might have been fond, if Q didn't know she was capable of turning said emotions off. </p><p>"We have recovered Bond." She says with that odd facade of care. "He's returning to MI6 and I need him outfitted for a mission as soon as he's cleared for duty." Even after nearly half a decade, the name still brings the idea of tears to his eyes. </p><p>He nods at her again. "I'll deliver it myself." Q says. She dismisses him with one short searching look and returns to the laptop screen between them. </p><p> </p><p>*		*		*</p><p>The meeting at the gallery goes as well as Q can expect. Bond underestimates him, seeing his youthful demeanor and dismissing him as a student trying to chat him up. </p><p>Q puts him in his place. Bond looks just the same. Blond hair, bulldog face, blue eyes. </p><p>It's hard, to call him anything but 007. James, his James, had never liked being called by his number designation. After James had- After James, Nathan had searched out as much about the designation as possible for his moderate rank. His 'James Bond', originally called Ian Darcy apparently, had been the fourth of his designation, lasting 11 years. </p><p>As Q, he's able to go much further back. Long before David Hatt, before Ian Darcy there had been George Sharp, James Haldan, and an actual James Bond, a scottish Naval Commander, the first of his designation. Nearly 50 years of James Bonds, acting as 007, for the good of England. </p><p>He turns off the computer after that. Unable to see the love of his life constricted to the third resurrection of a dead man.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Just Goes to Show</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>From the end of Skyfall to the beginning of Spectre.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Why yes, Chapter Titles are awesome.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He'd thought he'd kept his cool around 007. Thought he hadn't let anything slip through, even with all the distractions Silva had produced. </p>
<p>Bond comes at him with, "I'm beginning to think you don't like me very much, Q." and Q freezes. It's not very subtle, but he can't help it now. </p>
<p>"You are an asset to your country, and you've proven beyond doubt that your service to your people and occupation are absolute." His voice is steady. It's calm and concise. He doesn't know what Bond hears in it. </p>
<p>"And yet." Bond says. His eyebrow lifts and a spark of cold humor ignites. "You don't like me." </p>
<p>Q fiddles with the pad of paper at the corner of his desk. "I don't have any opinions of you, 007." And the way Bond's other eyebrow lifts to join the first, makes the pit of his stomach quiver. He'd given something away. Bond is smart, a necessity of being a secret agent, especially one like James Bond. But he's also socially clever, good with people. He senses something. </p>
<p>"Very well, Quartermaster." Bond inclines his head regally, and leaves. Q's not sure what Bond figured out, or thinks he did, but he knows it's not good news. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>*		*		*</p>
<p>The armoury is a relatively small room in their underground set up, temporarily off the computer banks, which holds the entirety of the weaponry to be used by field agents and 00's. It's a place Q likes to go to think. He's not much for firing guns, though like all officers and agents, he must practice and qualify proficiency in most of the weapons he hands out. Major Boothroyd, the head armourer of MI6 in the seventies, had installed a desk in the back corner, which has since become Q's official desk. He could have chosen any desk or work space in the Q-branch, but he likes to sit and think about whatever problem is ailing him in a quiet place not afforded to him if he's out in the open. His minions know to bother him when he's visibly in the workplace, and let him be if he's at his desk. </p>
<p>It's been months since his impromptu promotion. Since the Silva attack on MI6. Months since 007 had lead Silva and his crew to Skyfall and the former M had been killed on duty. </p>
<p>He hadn't known her very well, but she'd left him a flash drive with what appeared to be surveillance pictures of him and James, proving she knew him better than he'd known. The pictures were nice, in a way. Evenings out, James' hand on his waist at a bar, the comfortable way they'd stood next to each other waiting for a cab. One where James' arm was over his shoulders on the way back to one of their flats. Q had looked so young, and James so brilliantly alive. He hopes they're the only copies, but doesn't fool himself. They were the only digital copies, he knew for sure, and the only copies of any picture he had of them together.</p>
<p>He kept the flash drive in a tiny commissioned safe currently tucked into the base of a shelf full of guns waiting to be logged out.</p>
<p>*		*		*</p>
<p>Bond apparently launches a campaign to make everyone in Q branch like him. It seems, if he can't get Q, he'll turn elsewhere in the department. </p>
<p>Q notices it first when he sees Bond lounging in the Q division commissary. It's not, strictly speaking, for Q branch only. It just happens to be the commissary where Q branch most often goes. He knows, he KNOWS, that the 00's have their own area of the forgotten underground to hide away and do whatever it is 00's do when they're in London and attending to meetings. He's the one that rigged up security so he even knows where it's at. He doesn't stop Bond from spending time in what he's come to think of as his commissary. Just gets his oversized mug of tea and moves on. </p>
<p>He notices it again when R stops by his official office, a mostly glass paned thing just off the corner of the computer room used only when he has meetings or must host someone. He sees her coming and expects an update on the coding for any one of seven projects he has his techs working on, but she pops her head in and says, "Did you get any of the Danishes?" At his bewildered look she rolls her eyes and disappears again. She comes back moments later with a napkin of sweet cheesy goodness and he can feel his mouth water.</p>
<p>"Where did these come from?" He asked. Things sometimes appeared in the Q-branch areas, when Q had completed tech or section of code that made Tanner's job that much easier. </p>
<p>"I saw Bond bring them in earlier." She says. He's in the middle of a bite, and she catches his eye as he freezes. "I thought so." She comes in and pulls the door closed. The glass panes shift to opaque mode and she crosses her arms in front of him. "What is going on, Q?" </p>
<p>He swallows. The danish suddenly goes down dry and hard and he grabs for his cup of tea, gone cold. "What do you mean?" He says. He tries for honesty, but it doesn't quite seem to work on her. Because it's not honest, or because she knows him better than that, he doesn't know. </p>
<p>"You and Bond. Something happened? Did he kill your puppy? You get this twitchy look every time he's mentioned, and go over formal when he's in the shop." She gestures to the computer banks outside. "Q-branch is caught between liking him and worrying you're going to fire them for being nice to him." </p>
<p>Q is outraged. He would never fire someone over something that might have been personal. He'd thought his crew would have known better. "I- Nothing. Bond has done nothing of the sort." He pushes the danish off to the side of the small desk. It's really too small for him to work at. He wishes he was in the armoury now.  "I have never- would never- let anything personal come into the workplace," He says standing. "Even if something had happened between Bond and myself. I would never do something about personal relationships in the workplace." He gives R the best glare he'd learned from the previous Q. </p>
<p>"Something is happening between you and 007." R insists. Q picks up both the napkin with the pastry and his cold cup. "If you don't want to tell me, tell him." She blinks a moment. "You don't fancy him, do you?" </p>
<p>Q's mouth falls open and he's not sure he's ever been this startled. "Fancy 007?" His heart thuds in despair. "I have never liked, or disliked," He adds quickly, "this Bond." And if he could only have thought faster. If his brain had been up to filtering his speech. If he'd only kept his cool and moved R out of his office sooner, he might not have slipped. </p>
<p>"This Bond." She says, and Q knows it's all over. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>*		*		*</p>
<p>He tells R. Everything. His eyes tear up and so do hers. She sits in his comfy arm chair, used for welcomed guests, and holds his hand. She wipes her eyes and pats him as he trails off. </p>
<p>"I'll let everyone know-" He glances at R sharply, "that it's nothing personal. I don't think anyone in the branch would begrudge you. But it's your story." She stands and wipes her eyes once more. "I'm sorry, Q." She says. And as she walks out the door he knows he's made the right decision to tell her.</p>
<p>Q branch still receives visits from 007, but his underlings don't glance guiltily at him anymore in the mess hall. He gets back to work. </p>
<p>Bond comes to see him after a little while. </p>
<p>"Bond." Q says calmly. He can see R looking at him from her station. He shakes his head and Bond glances at her. </p>
<p>"Busy?"</p>
<p>Q gestures broadly at the entire branch. "No more than usual, 007. What is it you need?" </p>
<p>Bond steps in close, closer than conventional social etiquette called for and Q resists the urge to step back. Bond smells like gun powder. Like a hint of rain on a breeze. Oddly, a little like lavender, mixed with the scent of a very fashionable mint aftershave. Q swallows and breathes gently through his mouth. It's not unlike the scent of James. </p>
<p>It turns his stomach. </p>
<p>"It's personal. Not something I'd prefer to say in the open." Bond is quiet, his eyes searching Q's face. His ever seeing eyes. </p>
<p>Q turns -not retreating- and starts towards his glass office. He's several steps away before Bond follows. Q holds the door for him then turns the walls impenetrable. </p>
<p>Bond asks him about M, Mansfield, and about the organization known as Spectre. Q's not sure what Bond is looking for, exactly. It doesn't feel like an interrogation. It does feel like a favor, like something he might get an official reprimand over, like something he wouldn't do for any other operative. </p>
<p>*		*		*</p>
<p>Bond goes AWOL, for a while. Formal inquiries pull information that he'd gone on holiday. Mexico might never be the same.</p>
<p>Q is too busy in those weeks to care much about what 007 is up to. Mallory calls him into his office, M's office, and informs him of the merger. </p>
<p>Q is against it, before he even has all the details. He's supposed to be directly under M's supervision, but the man who meets with him in M's office talks as though Q is not the director in entirety of the technology and information branches. Max Denbigh scratches awfully on Q's nerves. Denbigh calls him Mr. Gibbs, a designation Q has not paid any attention to except at the bank for more than five years. </p>
<p>He leaves the meeting feeling slimy and paranoid. R meets him at the entrance to the Q Branch of the underground and he immediately begins making plans to move operations.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't know what my posting schedule will be like. As stated in previous works, I am a flake. </p>
<p>Good News is that I've mostly gone where I wanted with this. It's not nearly finished, but I have a good plan. Crossed Fingers, Y'all.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Blood You Owe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Through Spectre- And Beyond!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was my buffer chapter... I have no more buffer chapters. I'm sorry. I will try to flake less...?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It always comes down to Bond. This Bond, His James, James Bond of the 60's. They have a way of pulling things off that should never have worked in a million years.</p>
<p>Austria is the end. The end of the line, as far as Q can tell himself. Bond is going rogue, leaving sense behind. Just because he's right to be paranoid is no reason... of course the world needs his help, so maybe not the end of the line, after all.  </p>
<p>Max Denbigh is evil, and Q feels justified. The Joint Intelligence Service, as it's been formed, is disbanded. Bond sweeps off into the distance with his newest Lady Love. </p>
<p>Q is tired. Q makes plans, goes home, and hopes he'll never hear from Bond again. Any of them. But maybe not as hard as he could. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>*		*		*</p>
<p>Bond returns to active service. Q is neither surprised, nor upset. He drags the office email notification into the trash.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>*		*		*</p>
<p>He arrives at the newly set up armoury, fashioned much the same as his underground playroom, and smells a familiar strain of lavender and aftershave. He can feel his stomach clenching into a rock. He walks slowly, normally, to the desk that holds his thinking things. </p>
<p>Bond is sitting in his working chair. The laptop Q had been messing with- cleaning and basic repair for Eve- is on and open on his desk. The picture of Q and James, arm around him, is open on the screen and Q's heart stops. The little flash drive, the gift from M, is plugged into the port and Q has to face the face of the man who stole his love's life. </p>
<p>"So." Bond says. He'd glanced at Q when he'd approached the desk, but he's looking now at the photo on the laptop. "Things begin to make sense now." </p>
<p>"You don't know anything." Q spits. He takes a breath and pulls the professionalism he's known for over his emotions. "007, You do not have permission to access those files, or in fact, this room. I ask that you return to the designated parts of Q division that you're authorized to visit." Q is gripping the strap of his bag so tightly his hands hurt. Or would hurt if he could focus on anything but the stuttering of his sorrowful heart. </p>
<p>"I was briefed, you know. On the character, the incarnations of James Bond." Bond says. He idly taps a key and the next picture appears, a new cut to Q's heart. The screen shows James, his James, looking at Q from over a cafe table. They'd both had coffee in hand and Q is smiling shyly. It's devastating, and beautiful. Bond is looking at him now. </p>
<p>Q walks over and gently pulls the lid of the laptop closed. "You have no right." He's losing  grip on his mask and he can feel a tear slide out over his cheek. Bond is staring at him critically.</p>
<p>"I don't deserve to know. But I think I'm in the unique position to listen. If you want to tell me." It's Q's turn to stare. He leaves the tear and watches Bond's face. </p>
<p>There's no judgement. Perhaps a sliver of understanding. Q takes a deep breath and opens the laptop again. The picture comes up, no password required and Q pulls a nearby chair. </p>
<p>"James- Ian, the-" Q swallows sharply. "The previous 007, he and I. We were." Q stops and turns to the laptop. "I loved him." He says softly. </p>
<p>"And then he retired." Bond says, not softly, but not unkindly. He sits up in his pilfered chair. "The 00 way." Q snaps up to look at him, searching for the laughter in the crude joke. He pulls the strap of his bag over his head, giving himself a moment. Bond wasn't wrong.  </p>
<p>"And then he went on a mission, supposed to be a milk run, and ended up dead in an alley."</p>
<p>There's a moment, where Bond studies the photo. Q presses a button and the picture changes to another. James in the photo is turned away, showing Q staring up at him. "He was nearly 50 when he died." Bond says, not quite shocked. He stands, turning to the weapons on display along the wall. "You were..." </p>
<p>"Barely the secretary to an entry level Q Branch manager?" Q says, standing as well. He moves to the laptop and grits his teeth. Bond turns at his tone. "Drastically under prepared to be wooed by a 00? Too poor and sheltered to have stood the high chance of loss?"</p>
<p>"Young." Bond finishes. He's gripping the back of the chair Q had pulled up, the one that squeaks like nothing else, that everyone avoids when they come to make their reports to him. </p>
<p>"Yes. I was that, too." Q says sharply. "I was young enough to know everything, to feel invincible." A strangled laugh works its way towards his vocal cords, but Q holds it back. "Young enough to be damaged by love." </p>
<p>"One might say, too young. For a partner so jaded as a 00 close to 'retirement' can be." Bond says. His voice is light, no judgement still. </p>
<p>"Old enough to make my own choices, for better or worse." Q dismisses. Bond stares at him. "And so you know." Q says. He sits in the chair Bond had appropriated and turns his back to the man. He shuts the laptop down, pulling the drive out, and sets it to the side of his thinking things. "Will that be all, Agent Bond?" </p>
<p>"Yes, Quartermaster, I appreciate your time." Then Bond is gone. And Q waits a few minutes before curling forward. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>*		*		*</p>
<p>Bond leaves Q branch alone after that. R gives Q a look a few times, something between a knowing frown, and curiosity. He ignores her. </p>
<p>He requests a few days off from Mallory, and receives them. He takes the days before and after Jame-Ian's death, and travels to Paris. They'd been once, Q's fear of flying limiting their vacation spots. </p>
<p>When he returns to the office the fourth day, there's a small vase of tasteful flowers on his desk in the armoury. There's no note, but the only person Q can think they'd be from is R and she's as clueless as he is. There's a moment, when Bond comes to be outfitted for his mission. He looks at Q and nods slightly. Q nods back, before turning away quickly. He's not sure, but he has his suspicions. He just can't figure out why Bond would...</p>
<p>But it doesn't matter. Bond continues on, and so does Q. He thinks about asking after Madeleine, but can't quite do it. She's not, as far as he'd allowed himself to check, in the picture anymore. Alive, to be certain, which is more than he can say for any of this Bond's other paramours. </p>
<p>He hates her, a little, for getting the chance to keep Bond and throwing it away. </p>
<p>Bond continues to go out and save the world in ridiculously impossible ways, and Q is a little glad. Ok, more than a little. Since Bond's 'discovery' (which truthfully, Q is more grateful for than he'd ever tell the man) Q has felt the burden of secrecy shift from his shoulders. Thoughts of Bond become ever more present. </p>
<p>The tasteful flowers were the first gift. They made a certain kind of sense, Bond showing his understanding and sympathy for Q's self required get away. The box of expensive tea from China, makes less sense. Q's more than certain he's never been caught drinking anything but Earl Grey in the office. The pretty wooden box on his desk startles him. Much more than a little. </p>
<p>R comes up behind him when he's been stationary for too long. "Did you need something to write the thoughts down before you cross the door?" She asks amused. He's lost a thought more than once, passing from one room to the other. She glances over his shoulder at his pristinely organized desk and immediately spots the box. The flower petals engraved and lightly painted on the sides seem to catch her up too. She opens it and sniffs lightly. "Oh, This smells excellent." She says. </p>
<p>Q creeps closer. Looking in the box, he sees thin curled leaves and smells something like hazelnut. "This is..." He pulls out the small professional card stock label: Meng Ding Huang Ya, Silver Needle Tea. </p>
<p>"It's Chinese?" R says shortly. "Wasn't Bond just there?" She turns to look at him piercingly. "Did you ask for this? Do you even like this kind?" Q shakes his head bewildered. </p>
<p>"I-" He stops. He hasn't liked yellow tea before. Probably won't like it now, regardless of the quality of the tea or the canister it's in. "I guess I can learn?" He says, asks. R looks at him for a solid minute, as the gears in his head spin in fits and starts. </p>
<p>"Do you know what you're doing?" she asks him quietly. </p>
<p>"Not even remotely." He says, finally setting his messenger bag in its usual spot along his chair.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ok. Notes:<br/>There are multiple James Bond's but only the two most recent will be referred to as James Bond. (These are Pierce Brosnan's 'James' and Daniel Craig's '007 or Bond'. It might get a little confusing, I tried my best...) </p><p>After Nathan becomes Q, You will mostly never see the name Nathan again.</p><p>Follows loosely with the timeline of Skyfall and Spectre, with mentions of events in Casino Royale. </p><p>Unlike in most FF, Book!Major Boothroyd was an armorer in the 70's. He is not Q of any kind. </p><p>Nathan/Q is 21 when he starts a romance with his James (46).<br/>Q is 32 for Skyfall while Bond is 38.<br/>This is the real age of Ben Whishaw, but not of Brosnan or Craig IRL.<br/>I didn't want the age gap to be gross for both JB's.</p><p>Also, Yes. The age difference between Nathan and his James is weird and a little gross. There's a reason.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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